


What A Dangerous Night (to fall in love)

by ahyperactivehero (ahyperactiverhero)



Series: i never knew anybody til' i knew you [5]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Drowning, Gun Violence, Hurt Aziraphale (Good Omens), Hurt Crowley (Good Omens), Hurt/Comfort, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, Mutual Pining, Pre-Relationship, Pre-Slash, Protective Aziraphale (Good Omens), Protective Crowley (Good Omens), RMS Titanic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-19
Updated: 2019-08-03
Packaged: 2020-07-08 10:00:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 21,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19867729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ahyperactiverhero/pseuds/ahyperactivehero
Summary: Both Crowley and Aziraphale are assigned a mission on board the luxury cruise ship, RMS Titanic. It goes about as well as expected.XXX"What're you gonna do?" a man from the group shouted. "Shoot us?!"The group seemed to intensify after that. There was something in the air now and it was a hell of a lot more dangerous than anything Crowley could have ever hoped to create.It was a group of scared humans.He stepped forward, moving so that he was completely in front of Aziraphale and put his hands on the bars. It would take a second, just a quick second to magic-Fire seemed to shoot through his side. Screams rang out around him as he let go of the bars and fell backwards.





	1. Chapter 1

One would think by now that Crowley would know better than to trust anything that Hastur had to say. And he did, truly he did. Demons didn't trust each other, after all, that's just the way things worked in hell, but one did have to listen to one's superior. 

So when Hastur had told Crowley that he had to be on a luxury ship leaving for America the very next day, he knew that something must be up.

"Word is that the Opposition is sending in their own man," Hastur said, grinning wide enough to show off his rotten teeth. "And if they're sending in one of their own, we might as well, too."

If he had believed it would've been anyone other than Aziraphale he would have said no. Or at least found a creative way to do it so that Hastur didn't know he was actually being told no, but all of that seemed like a moot point now given the fact that he would do almost anything to meet up with Aziraphale.

Their last meeting hadn't exactly went well. He had known that asking for the Holy Water would likely have led to some objections from the angel, but he hadn't expected him to outright deny him or behave like such a child.

The memory of his own "obviously" rang back in his ears so loudly that it was almost embarrassing.

But, he'd had good reason to ask for that Holy Water, and he was going to stand by it. It was hardly his fault that the angel had reacted so harshly and so quickly without even listening to any of Crowley's explanations.

Hopefully, with the two of them both being assigned to this particular job they'd be able to patch things up. If he were being honest, he quite liked meeting up with Aziraphale, for work or whatever reason he could possibly find, and figured that the angel likely felt the same way. Now, getting him to _admit_ that he enjoyed Crowley's company was a whole other story, but deep down Crowley knew that he did.

"What's so special about a big boat?" Crowley asked. "So it's unsinkable. Nothing's really unsinkable."

"Exactly," Hastur said. "At least we seem to be on the same page for once."

Crowley couldn't help the way his lip curled up at that thought. The last page Crowley wanted to be on was the same one Hastur was on. If he were honest, he didn't even want to be in the same library as the demon.

It was surprisingly easy for him to get a ticket for this supposed luxury ship. A diabolical miracle here, a worker late there, and dressing in the highest fashion of the time allowed him to board The Titanic with little trouble. Everyone seemed to be all too happy to help him with his luggage (that he would likely never need, as he always just magicked his clothes for the most part anyways) or show him to his room or whatever else he might need.

"A demon could get used to this," he muttered under his breath as someone took his bags away.

"Well don't," a voice said from behind him. It was annoyed and very prim and proper and clearly put out by seeing Crowley.

He'd know that voice anywhere.

"Aziraphale!" he said, attempting to sound as cheery as possible. Maybe if he acted like everything was fine they could go back to normal. Or what passed for their version of normal, anyways.

The angel's eyes were narrowed, the blue of them just barely visible. Aziraphale was a soft man, it was difficult to make any part of him seem hard or cold, but he was certainly giving it the old college try.

"Crowley," he said stiffly. He sniffed as he walked by, not even showing a hint of stopping.

"Hey, wait a second," Crowley said. He reached out, his hand stopping just short of catching on his elbow. It didn't feel like he was allowed to touch him, allowed to stop him from leaving. And maybe he wasn't.

"What is it, Crowley?" he asked. He held his body still, keeping his eyes away from him, instead choosing to gaze out over the people on the docks waving goodbye. It didn't seem as if he was actually watching them, just looking at them as an alternative to Crowley.

"Uh, I just wanted to say," he paused, wondering if he should apologize. He was a demon, after all, and demons did not apologize.

But this was Aziraphale. And he was Crowley. They'd always been strange creatures, especially in regards to each other, this would hardly be the first time they'd done something wildly out of character for their kind for each other.

"If you're going to ask for more Holy Water, I'm going to have to disappoint you," Aziraphale said. He took off his hat and held it in his hands, his fingers running over the brim. All of his clothes were nice but showing signs of wear from where his fingers constantly brushed over them.

"That's-" Crowley started. "That's not what I was going to say at all, angel." His voice quieted down until it was almost drowned out by the passing crowds around them. "For Satan's sake, I was trying to apologize to you." Couldn't have any other agents of Hell listening in and hearing that tidbit of information. 

"Well, that's very _nice_ of you," Aziraphale said, emphasising the word nice as much as possible. As if Crowley didn't already know how strange it was for a demon to do something like this.

He hissed at him and quickly backed away. "I'm not _nice_ , angel. Never have been, never will be." he glanced around the ship desk, although he was fairly certain that no one else from either side was around. One could never be too sure when it came to things like that. "But _thanksss_ for the reminder."

A look flashed across Aziraphale's face, but Crowley paid it no mind. Instead, he stalked off in the opposite direction, hoping, almost willing, that their rooms would be on different ends of the ship.

XXXX

God was a bastard and she had a sick fucking sense of humor.

Crowley stood next to his door, his key dangling in his hand. "You've got to be kidding me," he said, looking at his next door neighbor.

Aziraphale was standing there, a similar look on his face. "Luck of the devil," he said, a bit more of his normal tone returning to his voice.

They'd been out at sea for a total of three hours and Crowley already hated it. He was not made for this type of travel. He was a snake for Satan's sake! And not a water one at that! A garden snake, albeit a large one, at best.

"Luck of someone is fucking right," Crowley muttered under his breath. "But it definitely isn't the devil."

Aziraphale shot him a look out of the corner of his eye but said nothing. Fine, if the angel wanted to play that way, Crowley could too.

He unlocked his door and pushed his way into his room, intent on ignoring his "enemy" next door. Surely, there would be plenty of trouble to cause on the ship without even having to run into the angel.

His room was as nice as he had been expecting it to be. Everything on board, or at least the parts that the first class people were seeing, seemed like they had been taken straight from the Ritz and were extremely lavish.

Suddenly, his door opened. He jerked up, wondering who on Earth would be opening his door without a key, only to realize that there was likely to be only one person on board the entire ship interested in opening his door.

"What exactly are you doing here?" Aziraphale asked.

"I could ask you the same question," Crowley said. He sauntered over to where Aziraphale was standing, making sure to circle around him as he spoke. "What exactly did Heaven plan for you to do here?"

Aziraphale turned his head, watching Crowley as he made his way around. "There are a few people on board that need to be protected. I need to make sure that they get to America safely. Shouldn't be much trouble, unless you have something to say about it."

Crowley couldn't help but give him a fake smile at that, making sure to show his teeth as he did so. "Well, I don't. Hell didn't exactly give me much more to go on other than make some trouble, so that's what I'll be doing. So, if you don't mind," he snapped his fingers and the door swung wide open again. "Get out."

He knew that he was being unfair to the angel, that he was merely snapping at him in retaliation for Aziraphale's earlier snappish behaviour, but he wasn't ready to admit that yet. Demons were allowed to be rude and curt and everything else that society deemed unacceptable. That was basically a demon's job description.

Hurt flashed across Aziraphale's face, and for one brief, shameful moment Crowley felt proud. _Good_ , he thought, _let him hurt the way I hurt. Show him how it feels for once to get shut out._

Immediately after thinking it he wanted to take it back. There was no need for him to turn on his oldest and closest friend like this just because they'd had one disagreement. There had been plenty of them in the years they'd known each other, and there would doubtlessly be a million more to come.

So why was this one so hard for both of them to move past?

"Fine," Aziraphale said, turning his back to Crowley. For a moment he hesitated, like he might try and say something to him, but eventually he kept walking.

 _Way to go,_ Crowley thought. _You just pissed him off even more._

XXX

Despite having decided that he was done with Aziraphale this trip and that he would absolutely not be "fraternizing" with the angel in any way, shape, or form, he couldn't help but look out for him everywhere he went. There were places that he knew he could go in order to avoid the angel, like the dirty engineers room, the lower parts of the ship, the gyms, and the swimming pools, but he didn't go to them either. 

That would feel far too much like defeat.

Instead he chose places that he knew Aziraphale would love. The libraries, the kitchens and dining halls, and the upper deck where you could look out and see the beautiful, almost blinding way the sun or moon mixed with the ocean were all likely places he might find him.

And he did. There were several times that they would run across each other, just passing each other by and barely acknowledging that the other existed all while being very aware that the other one was there.

It seemed like such a waste of time, honestly. Which is what led to Crowley sitting down at the table across from Aziraphale in the dining room.

Aziraphale looked up, surprised to see someone sitting down across from him, and quickly rolled his eyes. He quickly turned his attention back to the food he'd been eating, ignoring Crowley the best way that he could.

"Angel," Crowley said, although he wasn't even sure what he was going to say. Aziraphale didn't even glance at him as he spoke. He sighed and tapped his knuckles against the table before leaning back in the chair. "I've got some wine in my room if you feel up to drinking it. That is, if we're doing the talking thing." He sat there for a moment, completely still and waiting for Aziraphale to say something. When he didn't, he sighed again and stood up. There was nothing else to say, really.

"What kind of wine?" Aziraphale asked. His voice was low, so quiet that Crowley was sure he would've missed it if he hadn't been hoping so desperately that he might ask him. 

"Something better than this," Crowley said, gesturing to the champagne on the table in front of the angel. From anyone else this would be a bold, and likely untrue statement, as The White Star Line did not skimp out on it's alcohol, but they'd known each other long enough for Aziraphale to recognize that he was likely telling the truth. Crowley always did manage to squirrel away the best drinks and bring them out just in time to tempt Aziraphale with them. 

It was a strange game the two of them played, and not one that either of them was particularly fond of, but here they were regardless.

"Well," Aziraphale said, dabbing at his mouth with his napkin. "I suppose it wouldn't hurt if I just stopped by. Have to keep an eye on the enemy, right?"

Crowley smiled despite his annoyance at the pretence. "Yeah. I could be getting up to all sorts of trouble in there, who knows what, really."

If Crowley didn't know better he would have said that Aziraphale had blushed at that comment. 

"Yes, well," he said, his voice more than a little flustered. "I'll just finish up here and meet you there."

Crowley nodded and walked away. At least the two of them were talking again. There was little doubt in his mind that the whole Holy Water thing hadn't been forgotten yet, but it could at least be placed behind them for the moment.

XXX

He was drunk by the time Aziraphale showed up.

Which, honestly, shouldn't have been as much of a surprise for him as it was.

There was a knock on his door, a knock that could only have been from the angel, and he had immediately leapt for it. Or maybe stumbled over his own two feet in the most drunken way possible was a better way to describe the movement.

"Good Lord," Aziraphale said once Crowley had opened the door. His arms were out stretched and he quickly caught the inebriated demon before he could hit the floor.

"Hello there, Zira," Crowley said in a sing-song tone that made Aziraphale cringe. He'd never really understood Crowley's need to shorten his name before, and while he usually liked it (although he'd be hard pressed to admit it), it felt strange to hear from him now.

"What are you doing?" Aziraphale almost stage whispered. He glanced down the hallway just to make sure that no one was watching them, before shoving Crowley back into the room. Thankfully, he'd somehow managed to find his feet and stumble over to the desk to grab an unopened bottle for whatever they would be drinking. Or in Crowley's case, had already been drinking.

"Thought you might not be coming," Crowley said honestly. "It seemed to be taking a long time."

A tenseness settled into Aziraphale's shoulders before he took a quick breath and released it. Crowley considered whether or not he should sober up, but couldn't decide if he actually should. One the one hand, it might make Aziraphale less angry with him, which was always a bonus. On the other hand, that had been expensive wine, and he wasn't particularly done being drunk just yet.

"Dinner is usually this long," Aziraphale said. "Not that you would know, seeing as how you never eat during any of our meals together."

Crowley shrugged and handed Aziraphale a bottle and glass. "Why eat when I can drink?"

There were many problems with that statement, Crowley was sure of it, but he let them all go in favor of plopping down onto the edge of the bed, his own bottle hanging loosely in his hand. His glass had been forgotten somewhere along the way.

The cork popped out of Aziraphale's own bottle and the angel sniffed the air above it, clearly enjoying the smell. It was so strange to Crowley the way he savored drinks and food and all the other things that it seemed like both demons and angels alike scorned. Something about it just twisted something deep inside Crowley, who's only response was to take another huge swig. Not the time to think about that.

It wasn't long before the two of them were talking, just like they used to. It was as if the Holy Water business had never happened and the two of them were just meeting up after work to drink wine and gossip about their coworkers and customers. It was so mundane, so normal that it almost hurt.

"Did they really not tell you what you were supposed to be doing here?" Aziraphale asked, his words a bit slurred. He'd quickly caught up to Crowley, although he was less stumbling of his feet and more over his words.

"Nope!" Crowley said. "Hastur loves to do that. Tells me to do something but not give me instructions. It's like his thing. Favorite. Favorite hobby. Not that demons have hobbies. Well, not really. I do. But most are too- _too_ busy. Tempting. Wiling." He sat up from where he'd been laying back against a pile of pillows on the bed, startling Aziraphale with his sudden movements. "Have you ever seen Hastur dance before? It's bad. And not in the good form of bad that demons like. No. It's just bad-bad."

Aziraphale blinked, his brain obviously trying to keep up with what Crowley was saying. It wasn't unusual for Crowley to ramble, to go off on tangents, whether or not Aziraphale was listening or even cared. "Why were you watching him dance?"

Crowley jerked his arm around in the air, as if to wave away the question. "'Cause we dance. Sometimes. It's not good. Er, well, nothing we do is good, we're demons. But you get my point. We dance. "

Aziraphale shook his head, likely trying to imagine a dance party in Hell, which was honestly fair. It's not like it was exactly pretty. 

There was a sudden shift in the air, something so solid and so heavy that Crowley had to almost gasp to get any air in. Aziraphale, noticing the way Crowley had suddenly changed, sat up, fear in his eyes.

"My dear," he said, quickly coming over to him. "What's wrong?"

A puzzled look came across his face as he clutched at his chest. "I don't know," he said. "Something bad is coming, though."

Aziraphale glanced around the room, clearly looking for whatever threat might be lurking in Crowley's room.

He gasped a few more times before regaining control of his breathing. That wasn't good.

Angels could sense love. They could feel it in the air all around them when they were surrounded by it, enjoyed the feeling and sometimes sought out humans in love in order to feel it.

Demons, however, could feel something else. Not exactly the opposite, but something worse. Whenever there was something bad going on, demons could sense it like a kick in the chest. Plague about to take out half the population of Europe? Kick in the chest. War breaks out between two usually peaceful countries, leading to years and years of fighting and countless deaths? Kick in the chest.

Stuck on a ship out in the middle of the Atlantic ocean? Well, there was certainly a kick in the chest.

"I think it might be best if you just sobered up," Aziraphale said. He was wringing his hands together, the stress of the situation clearly getting to him. "I'm sure you'll feel better once you do."

Crowley shook his head. He was basically sober already. One didn't feel something like this and stay drunk, not when it might be coming for you.

Before Aziraphale could say another word, Crowley was on his feet and headed towards the door. Aziraphale was quick on the uptake, setting his drink down to follow after Crowley as fast as he could.

"Where are we going?" Aziraphale asked. 

Crowley shrugged, not entirely sure of it himself yet. "Whatever it is, it's down below." He turned around, taking in Aziraphale's form that was jogging right behind him. "You don't have to come if you don't want to," he said. "It might be best if you don't."

"Nonsense," Aziraphale said. "Why wouldn't I come?"

_Because it's dangerous, because this is something real, because I don't want to lose you._

"Because I'd hate for you to get your lovely beige outfit dirty," he teased instead. It was easier that way. The way things should be between the two of them.

Aziraphale glanced down at his outfit before looking back at Crowley's. "Well, you hardly look like you should be mucking about down below either," he said.

Which he was right. While Crowley's outfit wasn't extravagant by any stretch of the imagination, it certainly was a fair bit nicer than what the people who shoveled coal into the engines would be wearing, or even what the third class passengers would be wearing.

Quickly, Crowley snapped his fingers, his clothes changing into something more fitting with a lower class person. "There," he said.

A frown settled onto Aziraphale's face, but he snapped his fingers all the same and changed into more fitting clothes as well. It was obvious that he was uncomfortable in these clothes and longed for the ones he'd just been wearing, but he made no objections.

"Let's go then," Aziraphale said, walking past Crowley. "You mentioned something about it being down below?"

The urge to stop him, to force him to wait up here was strong, but Crowley knew it would be no use. Once Aziraphale got something on his mind, he wasn't likely to forget about it.

He sighed as he now walked behind Aziraphale. At least he wouldn't have to do it alone.


	2. Chapter 2

Nothing was wrong.

Or, at least nothing _seemed_ to be wrong.

"See," Aziraphale said, patting him on the arm. "I told you there was nothing to worry about."

"But," Crowley said, his voice trailing off. He knew what he had felt up in his room, knew that there was something happening. Or maybe not happening, but going to happen, or maybe _already_ happened.

"Look, everyone is going about their business the way they should be," Aziraphale said, his voice reassuring in his ear. He gestured to the workers, who were steadily shoveling coal into the engines, the overseers who were watching them. Others were moving from here to there for no discernible reason that Crowley could understand, but seemed to be working nonetheless. "It hardly looks like anything is wrong."

Sunglasses covered eyes surveyed the area. Aziraphale was right, of course, nothing seemed to be going wrong. Everything seemed to be in order as it should be.

But it was hard to brush off that feeling as if it had never happened. It was like ignoring all of the warning signs of a heart attack or stroke just because you thought they didn't matter. The results could be deadly.

"I think it's time for bed," Aziraphale said, and that thought sent a shiver through Crowley as he had the brief thought about what _that_ would be like. "Perhaps being out at sea is affecting you more than you would like to admit."

Crowley bristled more than he figured he would at that. "This is hardly my first time at sea, angel," Crowley said. 

"Yes," Aziraphale said. "I do remember you as a very dastardly pirate, but I still think that you're over thinking these things."

_Easy for him to say_ , Crowley thought. _It wasn't like_ he'd _been the one to feel his chest collapse on itself with the weight of what was to come._

A hand fluttered next to Crowley's shoulder, somehow managing to stay just out of reach while still offering him some comfort. "Let's go, dear," he said, gesturing for him to head back upstairs.

This was going to be a bad decision, Crowley was sure of it, he just didn't know exactly when it would be.

XXX

The next morning was a rough start for Crowley.

Of course, he'd forgotten to sober up the night before, instead choosing to drink quite a bit more before passing out in his bedroom alone. Aziraphale had retired to his own bedroom, despite the fact that Crowley knew the angel didn't sleep, as soon as they'd gotten back to their floor. It had seemed like he'd been in quite a hurry to do so, which had stung more than Crowley cared to admit.

He'd thought that they'd moved past everything that had happened before. The casual, joking conversations that had occurred before the bad feeling had happened seemed to suggest that they had, but his hasty retreat seemed to imply otherwise.

There was also the fact that Aziraphale had failed to answer his door this morning when Crowley had knocked on it.

He was probably just out, likely eating one of the grand breakfasts that the ship offered, but it still hurt all the same. While Crowley didn't particularly enjoy eating, it was always nice to be asked by the angel if he'd like to go with him. That was what they usually did in these situations, after all.

Maybe things weren't going as well as he'd actually thought they were. Maybe he'd missed something the night before. Had Aziraphale even wanted to come over, or had he only come over because Crowley had seemed so desperate for company that he'd merely taken pity on him? 

How very merciful of the angel.

He shook himself, trying to dispel any and all thoughts related to the angel. There were plenty of things that he could be doing on the ship, and none of them involved fighting for some idiot's attention. Even if that was all he wanted to do.

XXX

Somehow, despite the fact that he was intentionally trying to avoid the angel now, it seemed like they were destined to run across each other.

"There you are," Aziraphale said. He sidled up next to Crowley, who was currently staring out at the water, hoping to blend in as much as possible to hide from said angel. "I've been trying to get your attention all day."

"Sorry," Crowley said, although he didn't sound it, nor did he mean it. "I've just been busy. Work, claiming souls for Hell, all that."

Aziraphale wrinkled his nose. "Yes, well, I just thought you might be interested in a bit of information that I learned earlier today," he said.

Crowley raised an eyebrow at the angel. It's not that they didn't share information, as they frequently did (that was one part of The Arrangement, after all), but it seemed strange that Aziraphale had seemed so insistent on getting it to him. He could have left a note, or sent someone else with a message, or even just waited until tonight when he would undoubtedly be right next door to him.

Unless he wasn't planning on being next door to him.

Crowley shook _that_ thought away. It wasn't helpful, nor was it anything that mattered. What did it matter to _him_ where the angel wanted or planned to spend his night? It was no business of his if he had... acquaintances on board.

"Must be pretty important," Crowley said. He turned around and started to watch the humans that were hanging out on the deck. Some sort of game had broken out amongst them, although Crowley for the life of him couldn't seem to figure out what it was. They seemed to be having fun, at least.

"It is," he said, his voice very confident. "So, I was speaking with one of the passengers in third class this morning, did you know that they don’t get half of the types of food that we do? I knew that there was obviously a difference between the classes, there always is unfortunately, with humans, but still. Anyways, John, a lovely fellow really, him and his wife are actually-"

"The point, angel."

"Yes," Aziraphale said, his face turning a bit red. "Anyways, John told me that he has a friend who actually knows someone who works with the boilers on the ship, and he happened to mention that one of the coal bunkers on board actually caught fire-"

"It _caught fire_?!" Crowley had to fight to keep his voice low and steady. It would hardly due to spread a panic or draw attention to themselves at this moment.

"A few days ago, actually," Aziraphale said, nodding his head. "But it's apparently been under control since before we even boarded. Perhaps that was what you were feeling?"

How was Crowley supposed to explain that this was not the kind of feeling that one got when something was "under control"? Maybe it was under control _now_ , but Crowley couldn't help but feel like that was going to change at some point. He could only hope that Aziraphale and he were off of the ship before that truly became an issue. 

"See, my dear," Aziraphale said. His hand raised, as if he were going to pat Crowley on the arm or shoulder before thinking better of it. "I told you that everything was fine. It's probably just the sea making you feel this way. I know how you feel about most modes of transportation."

Just because Crowley didn't like horses (who also didn't like him) or most trains or apparently ships now, did not mean that this was an issue that could be so easily brushed off by such things. But Aziraphale seemed quite content with himself, he really did look like the cat that got the canary at having "fixed" the problem. 

What was the harm in letting him believe that he had? It wouldn't do any good to have both of them worrying about all of this, really, in fact it was probably better if only Crowley was worried about it. He'd be able to discreetly fix whatever was wrong, and Aziraphale would get to enjoy a nice vacation, which he seemed to already be doing.

This was probably the best way that this could go.

"How did you say you figured out about the fire?" Crowley asked, leaning up against the railing. The humans had quieted down a bit now, their game seeming to have ended or at least moved off.

Aziraphale rolled his eyes, but thankfully didn't seem to be too annoyed about having to repeat himself. "I told you, John has a friend who knows someone who works down in the boilers and it's been mentioned between the two of them that there was a fire a few days before the ship launched. It’s apparently still going, but like I said, under control.”

"And he just told you all this?" Crowley said, an eyebrow raised. "Wasn't his friend supposed to keep something like that a secret? Why'd this John fellow tell you?"

A huff came from the angel next to him. "You seem to believe that you're the only one that can be charming," Aziraphale said, slightly offended. "I can make friends with people, too, you know."

He continued on, but Crowley barely noticed as he'd stopped listening after hearing that Aziraphale found him charming. That was a lovely compliment, right? Humans usually only referred to people they liked as charming, so it must be a good thing.

"But I really must be getting back," Aziraphale said, Crowley's ears finally deciding to start listening again. "I’ve been invited to have drinks with John, and it would be terribly rude if I told them no." There was something in his tone that Crowley couldn't exactly place.

"Busy little bee," Crowley said, just barely containing his disappointment. While he wanted nothing more than to sit around and drink with Aziraphale, he also knew that it would be best for both of them for him to get away. Once he did he could go down and check out the burning coal bunker. He didn't think he'd be able to relax until he'd seen it with his own eyes. "Wouldn't want to keep you, then."

Aziraphale deflated. "Yes," he said. "Well, thank you."

"Don't do that."

"Right," Aziraphale nodded, taking it back. "I'll see you around. Perhaps tonight, if drinks don't last too long?" 

Crowley shrugged, not wanting to commit to anything. If it was worse off than Aziraphale said he might not be in his room later. Plus, there was that need to seem nonchalant about hanging around Aziraphale, like doing so didn't make his whole life better.

It would be safer for the two of them if he could actually pull it off.

"Well, we'll play it by ear then," he said, his voice quiet. A moment later and he was gone, and Crowley had to swallow down the urge to scream at the sea.

XXX

So the bunker wasn't as bad as Crowley had expected it to be. It seemed like the humans, ingenious, brave, clever little things that they were, had taken care of it for the most part. Nothing seemed in danger of blowing up or burning down or anything else that he had imagined on his way back down there.

That didn't mean that everything was okay, though, as he still had that deep seated feeling that something was going to happen, but now it was even harder to explain. The burning bunker had seemed like the perfect problem, after all.

He cursed, finally giving in and heading back up stairs. He'd spent the better part of the day down here, looking for anything else that might be wrong. It was late by now, he could tell even without seeing the sky, and had no doubt missed any chance of seeing Aziraphale that night. 

"Just great," Crowley muttered to himself. He snapped his fingers and his clothes changed again, his higher class clothes appearing in an instant. This whole set up basically reeked of Hastur's influence, he was sure of it even if he didn't know how exactly. The Duke of Hell loved to torture him and a week long journey filled with worry honestly seemed like the perfect way to do it.

_Nah, Hastur's not that creative. Ligur, maybe, but not Hastur._

It was highly likely that the Duke of Hell had no idea what was actually going to happen. Sometimes, it had nothing to do with the job itself and more what was to come after it that would land Crowley in trouble. He could distinctly remember a job he’d done so well, yet on his way home had been pushed in a well by Hastur and had the lid sealed up. It had taken forever to get out of that one.

He paused outside of Aziraphale's door. It would be so easy to knock on it, to see what the angel was doing. Surely it wouldn't be strange to invite him over two nights in a row, right? They were still working together (or working very closely against each other if either side asked) so it only made sense for the two of them to see each other more often than they had lately.

_The only reason the two of you haven't seen each other is because you decided to act like a child,_ his own bitter thoughts echoed. Which, while true, were not exactly helpful.

Quickly, before he could lose any of the courage that he had managed to screw up, he knocked on the door.

It wasn't that he had been expecting fanfare or confetti to fly as soon as he had knocked or even have Aziraphale immediately open up the door, excited to see him, but he had expected _something_ to happen. He stood staring at the door and debated if he should knock again. 

_"I can make friends with people, too, you know,"_ Aziraphale had said earlier. Crowley had barely noticed it, far too consumed with the fact that Aziraphale had implied that he was charming. Who had he been talking about drinking with? John? Some human named John and his friend maybe?

His insides twisted. It's not that he was jealous of the humans who were getting to drink with the angel (they were humans after all, and they lived such short lives), but he did feel something akin to it. So what if a couple of humans were getting to hang around the angel for the night? Humans lived, at max, like a hundred years. That was nothing compared to the time he could spend with him, nothing compared to the time that he had _already_ spent with him.

None of those thoughts really helped him,though, because he still wasn't getting to see him tonight, which was the actual problem.

_Fine_ , he thought. _If Aziraphale can make human friends then so can I._

He'd made plenty of human "friends" over the years, but none that he would put even close to the same level as Aziraphale. But a drinking buddy to get him through the night or maybe the rest of the trip? Well, that might not be the worst thing on Earth.

He stared at the door for a second longer before his resolve hardened, and he turned on his heels away from the door.

XXX

Finding a group of humans who wanted to drink as badly as he did was fairly easy.

Without really meaning to he'd tuned into his more demonic senses, following the sense of sins being committed on the ship.

This is how he'd come to find himself hammered with several other men on board, drunkenly singing as loudly as they could. 

There were a few women around, most of them hanging back from their shenanigans as they spun each other around and sloshed a fair amount of alcohol onto the floor. Despite their distance, they watched them closely, their eyes occasionally making contact with one of the men in the group and drawing him away.

"And there goes Tim," one of the men said as he slung an arm around Crowley's shoulder. The Tim in question rolled his eyes as he and one of the ladies walked away, more than likely heading off to a bedroom for the night.

"Soon it'll just be us," the man- Jacob, Crowley was almost sure, said. He gestured back and forth between the two of them, more than a little bit of his drink spilling down Crowley's shirt. "The last two bachelors on the ship."

"Hmm," Crowley said, not really giving his words much thought. He took the bottle from Jacob's hand and downed the rest of it. Jacob gave a small 'whoop' as Crowley set the bottle down rather hard on the table nearest them. It took a small diabolical miracle to allow it to not shatter.

"There are worse things, though, I suppose," Jacob said. His hand came up in front of Crowley, almost smacking him in the face. "We could've ended the night with one of them and gotten them pregnant," he said, counting on his fingers. Crowley let out an almost disgusted, panicked noise at the thought of him accidentally creating a child. "We-we could've missed the boat. Ship. Boat. You know."

"We could've fallen overboard when we got on," Crowley said, playing along. 

"We could _still_ fall overboard," Jacob countered.

"I don't think you can count that as a good thing then," Crowley said. He reached for another bottle that was sitting on the table and missed. Jacob's hand was the only thing that prevented it from smashing against the ground.

"We could've wasted perfectly good alcohol," Jacob said and Crowley was inclined to agree this time. He handed the bottle to Crowley, laughing the whole time.

The bottle opened relatively easy and the alcohol went down without even a slight burn as Crowley titled it back. Jacob whistled in amazement at the amount that Crowley could drink, although he eventually did halt him by placing a hand on his arm and pulling it down.

"You're gonna get sick like that," he said. "And no one's gonna wanna clean that up."

Crowley started to shrug him off but decided against it. He was already pretty drunk, he could probably stay drunk the rest of the night without ever even taking another drink. Hell, he'd had enough that he might even stay drunk well into the next day.

Before Crowley could say anything, Jacob had snagged the bottle from him and finished it off. He gave him a playful shove, almost tipping them both over and into the floor.

"Alright you two," a man who'd previously been handing Crowley drinks. "I think it's time you two went to bed."

There was a hidden implication there, one that the man likely hadn't even meant when he'd said it, but Crowley couldn't help but feel his already heated face heat up even more at the words. 

"Aw, come on, Jerry," Jacob said, practically begging the man. "Just a few more drinks."

"John's gonna be pissed when he finds out that you've drank this much already," Jerry said. "I'm not gonna have him snappin' my head off just because you wanna get trashed."

Crowley's thoughts seemed to spin at the mention of the name John. It was a common name, really, it was. One of the most common in the world! So why did it bother him? What was it about the name that seemed to strike a cord with him.

"Too late," a voice said from behind Jerry. 

Both Crowley and Jacob froze at the voice, their drunken lean into each other the only thing that prevented them both from falling to the floor. The floor felt like it was moving way more than Crowley knew it should be, even for being on a ship. 

Behind Jerry was a man. He wasn't much taller than Crowley, although he was built far sturdier, and his features much resembled Jacob's with the dark hair and tanned skin.

"Crowley?" Aziraphale asked.

And of course, standing next to the man was Aziraphale.

He actually did fall to the floor at that.

"Shit!" Crowley muttered as he hit the ground. Jacob landed on top of him, his own muttered curse and stifled laughs coming out. 

"What on Earth are you doing here?" Aziraphale asked. He seemed to have trouble deciding if he wanted to look at Crowley or the human next to him or the other humans that were still sitting around drinking, content on watching whatever drama was happening play out.

"Drinking," he said at the same time Jacob did. This earned twin scowls from John and Aziraphale both.

"You were supposed to be asleep already," John said to Jacob. "Molly's been worried sick about you."

"I've just been here with my new best friend," Jacob said. He moved and tried to fling an arm around Crowley's shoulder's again only to have it drape across his chest instead. "We were just having a few drinks." 

"Psh, yeah, a few," Jerry muttered.

Jacob looked back and forth between Crowley and Aziraphale. "You two know each other?"

"Sort of," Aziraphale said at the same time Crowley said, "Yes."

" _Yes_ ," Aziraphale corrected himself, the exasperation easily noticeable in his tone. He reached down and offered a hand to the demon currently sprawled on the floor. "We unfortunately do."

Crowley couldn't help but flinch at that. He was used to Aziraphale making comments like that, he'd done it the entire time they'd known each other, but somehow it hurt more, was more embarrassing to have it happen here while he was drunk with some other humans.

Jacob stood up, "accidentally" knocking Aziraphale's hand aside. There was a huff and a very disapproving look from Aziraphale at that. Crowley stood up on his own after that, swaying back and forth so hard it seemed like he was in the middle of a storm on deck.

John sighed, grabbing his friend's arm. "We'll talk about this in the morning," he warned. He turned back to Aziraphale, his face nothing but apologetic. "I'm sorry. He can be a bit of a bad influence on people."

Aziraphale raised an eyebrow and glanced at Crowley from the corner of his eye. "I know the feeling. And somehow I doubt he is entirely to blame."

Shame flared in Crowley's middle, coloring his face red once again. He glared down at the floor, noticing out of the corner of his eye how stained his shirt was from drinks. It was a good thing he miracled most of his clothes or he would've been screwed trying to get that out.

It seemed like the sway was there to stay. He tried to step forward, intent on going straight to his bedroom and staying there the rest of the trip, but his body had other ideas. It seemed very fond of the idea of sleeping on the dirty floor right then and there and doing no such thing as walking all the way to his room.

"I've got you," Aziraphale said, his hands catching Crowley's arm. It would do little to actually hold him up, but at least it gave him something to ground himself with, something to focus on. He tried to not think about how warm the angel's hands were and how badly he wanted to have him hold more than just his arm.

"You always do, always have," Crowley mumbled before he could stop himself. He could only hope that Aziraphale hadn't heard him.

There was some more talking before they parted ways, Aziraphale dragging Crowley back up to the first class rooms while they headed off towards the third class rooms. Neither one of them said a word the entire trip, but the air was tense with the unspoken words.

It wasn't until they were standing in front of Crowley's door that it finally occurred to him that he should say something. "How was drinks?" he asked. 

Wrong thing to say.

"How was drinks?" Aziraphale asked back in disbelief. "If you must know, we didn't have a chance to have them! We've spent half of the night looking for Jacob, only to find him drinking with you."

He opened his mouth to say something, maybe to explain or to do anything really, he hadn't exactly figured it out, when Aziraphale cut him off.

"They're good people, you know."

Crowley jerked his head up, staring into Aziraphale's eyes. They were downcast, turned away from him, seemingly focus on the two doors in front of them. 

"I do," Crowley said.

"Do you?" Aziraphale asked. Finally, his eyes turned back to Crowley, who immediately wished they'd turn away. There was a lot of hurt in those eyes, far more than Crowley had ever wanted to see in them. "Is that why you- you tempted him tonight?"

Annoyance and his own feelings of hurt began to bristle past the alcohol. "I didn't do any tempting, angel, Jacob was already there when I got there. We just hit it off, had some fun, had some drinks."

Emotions too quick to register flashed past Aziraphale's eyes. "Yes," he said. "Fun."

"What are you even angry about?" Crowley asked, stepping away from Aziraphale. He stumbled a bit and collided into his bedroom door, the sound almost echoing down the empty hallway. He was too drunk for this conversation, could easily tell that fact. But he didn't feel like sobering up, at least not yet. There was a certain loose quality that he liked about being drunk. It made him bolder, made him say things he normally wouldn't say, not even to Aziraphale.

"You're the one who went off to-to have drinks with what's-his-name," Crowley said. "I didn't think I'd be ruining your plans by drinking with someone else."

A door banged open, bouncing off the inside wall of a room a few doors down. "Will you guys just kiss and make up already or go into a damn room and fight!" a man said, his face red and angry. "Some of us are trying to sleep!"

Aziraphale gave the man a quick apology before turning back to Crowley, who was already trying to open up his own door. His ability was more than a bit hampered by his double vision. "Why-?" he asked, or at least started to, but didn't finish the sentence. He stood there for a second, biting his lip lip as he tried to think of something else to say or gather the courage to say what he was thinking. "Why are you being so difficult?" he asked, and even a drunk Crowley could tell that's not what he wanted to ask.

"Demon," Crowley said, finally managing to get the door open. "It's what I do." 

And with that he slammed his door in Aziraphale's face.

XXX

_I'm an idiot,_ was the first thought that popped into Crowley's mind when he woke up the next morning.

He was an idiot for several reasons. Reason number one, he'd forgotten to sober up last night, leading to the massive hangover he had this morning (for the second day in a row). Two, he'd fought with Aziraphale, again, while trying to make up with him or at the very least get back to normal with him. Three, he'd forgotten to change out of the clothes from the night before and was left reeking of alcohol and sweat.

All in all, it was a lovely way to wake up.

Truthfully, he would have enjoyed just sleeping straight on through until they arrived in America, but even he knew that he didn't have that type of luck.

It took less time than he would've liked to clean up and magic on some more appropriate clothes. He thought about going straight down to the boiler room to make sure everything was still alright but managed to talk himself out of it. Hell had put him on this ship to cause trouble, so that's exactly what he was going to do.

Rich people were always the easiest to tempt. They were spoiled and entitled, all but expected the world to be handed to them on a silver platter, and never really looked at the help. This made getting into their rooms rather easy. A magicked uniform later and he was free to rifle through almost anywhere.

He did a few devious things, like take some items from some wealthier folks who wouldn't be missing them (and if some poorer folks happened to find them once they disembarked in America, well, that was just a coincidence). He also swiped a few sets of keys from some people and tossed them overboard, just for the dramatics of it all.

None of these were going to be especially noteworthy to Hell, but it would at least be something to show. Plus, he was sure that he could curse a few foods on the last night at sea to make sure some of the rich shits on board got sicker than dogs. He'd considered doing it then, but the thought of having to watch a bunch of rich people throw up almost made him sick himself.

These tiny inconveniences kept him busy for most of the day, which he was thankful for. The last thing he wanted to do was sit around and have time to think about Aziraphale or what an ass he'd made of himself last night.

Why was it so hard for the two of them to just sit down and talk without fighting? It hadn't always been this way. Was it still lingering tension from him asking for Holy Water? Or was there something else there, something that ran deeper than a petty argument a few decades ago?

Knowing that he was going to be on board had made him so excited before, excited enough that he had been so ready to apologize to him, even though he still didn't exactly think that he was at fault here.

Holy water was a necessity if you asked him, which he felt like Aziraphale should. It would probably save Aziraphale's life if he could just trust Crowley with it.

He shook his head, trying to dislodge the thoughts. He was trying to move past that after all.

He tossed another set of keys off of the side of the ship and watched as they disappeared from view. The ship had such a big wake that he didn't even get to see them disappear into the actual ocean, just the white foam waves kicked up by the ship.

"Crowley?" Azirphale asked, coming up behind him.

Crowley stilled, one last set of keys in his hand. 

"I thought that was you," Aziraphale said as he came up next to him. "No one else on board has the same hair color you do."

He let his last set of keys slide from his hand and into the water. He tried to keep his eyes fixed on the horizon, although it wouldn't really make much of a difference. His glasses usually did a very good job at hiding them from anyone, even Aziraphale.

"I tried to check in on you this morning," Aziraphale continued. "But I guess you were still sleeping." He could feel Aziraphale's eyes on him, trying to catch his eye but he refused.

"Didn't sober up," Crowley said, which was true but also didn't exactly further the conversation any. "Slept in a bit later than I planned to."

"Yes," Aziraphale said. "About that." He tapped his hands on the railing, a strange beat that Crowley vaguely recognized as something the band had been playing earlier that day. "I just wanted to apologize."

Crowley couldn't help the eyebrow that was raised at his words. "Apologize?" he asked. "For what?" It wasn't every day someone got an angel to apologize to them, especially not when that someone was a demon, so Crowley wanted to be sure he knew exactly what the apology was for.

"For...assuming things last night." Again with the tapping. "John said that Jacob confirmed that he'd already been down there drinking before you showed up and that he _hardly_ needs to be convinced to do anything devious."

There was no satisfaction in being told that he was right, which was probably the worst thing about all of this. Instead there was a vague feeling of hurt still. It wasn't the fact that Aziraphale thought he had tempted the man, no, they'd known each other long enough and it actually was in Crowley's job description to do so, but the fact that Aziraphale had assumed that he'd _needed_ to tempt him to drink with him. That it'd somehow been a requirement to hang out with him.

Aziraphale could be charming if he so wished. Crowley could be tempting. They weren't the same thing, not for beings like them.

"Easy mistake," he said. It wasn't all he wanted to say, but it was the thing that was less likely to cause any more friction between the two of them.

Crowley turned around until his back was against the railing, his arms casually leaning on it. "Didn't mean to make you miss your drinks," he said.

Aziraphale gave a small nod, accepting his apology in his own way. "It's fine, really. Nothing they could possibly have could even come close to anything you've got."

Crowley's heart twitched at his words. It didn't matter that he was talking about drinks at all. Aziraphale had compared him to humans, humans that he had chosen to spend his own personal time around, and found Crowley better in at least some aspect.

"Glad you know," he said with a sniff, trying to play it cool.

They stood there for a moment, Aziraphale staring out over the water while Crowley stared out across the deck. Sunset was approaching, giving everything the light touched a warm, orange hue to it. It wouldn't take long before it was chilly, but for now it seemed perfect to the two beings on deck.

"Would you-" Aziraphale trailed off for a second, hesitation coating his words. "I mean, if you don't have any other plans that is, would you like to accompany me to dinner? I heard that they're having some lovely desserts tonight, and while I know you're not exactly fond of eating I figured you might want to try some of them. It's not every day that we get to go on luxury cruise liner."

His own face felt warm as he smiled at the angel. Stupid angel. Stupid, stupid, _stupid angel_. Demons were the ones who were supposed to do the tempting, yet Crowley couldn't help but feel like Aziraphale was made to tempt him. Somehow, he knew that his angel would be a frightening demon.

XXX

Desserts were lovely, as Crowley had expected from a ship such as this, but they weren't what he was focused on.

"Did you like the pudding?" Aziraphale asked. He had one of his own in front of him, his spoon bobbing up and down above the dessert. "I'm so glad I got a chance to try it. Apparently it's a big name over in America."

"Hm," Crowley said. He leaned forward, his chin propped up on his elbow. He was sure that if he hadn't been a demon and already magicked them away the staff would surely be coming over to "correct" his improper sitting. They'd already tried to get him to remove his sunglasses at one point during the meal before Aziraphale had butted in something about medical reasons and they left it alone.

"You barely even touched it," Aziraphale said, finally noticing. "What about the pie? You at least tried that, right?"

Crowley had already tried both of them, of course, but apparently that wasn't good enough for Aziraphale, who tended to eat more than just a taste of them.

"Seriously, dear boy, what a waste," he said. He reached over and took a spoonful from Crowley's plate and ate it.

"Here, angel," Crowley said, scooting the dessert in front of him. "If you want it so bad, just take it."

His eyes lit up. "Well, if you insist," he said. 

Crowley's stomach did somersaults at the look in Aziraphale's eyes. He looked at Crowley like he'd hung the moon and the stars (which, he had. The stars, not the moon, that is) and not just given him a dessert that he was already finished with.

"You know, sometimes I think you invite me to dinner just so you can get my desserts," Crowley said. He knew this wasn't true, but the endless need to tease the angel was strong and hard to resist.

Aziraphale gave him a playful scowl, one he possibly couldn't mean. "Shush," he said. "You know that's not true."

"Right. It's because I'm just a joy to be around," Crowley sarcastically said.

"Sometimes," Aziraphale said, his voice high and thoughtful. A table nearby them erupted into a heated argument, something about who was responsible for losing the keys or locking them inside the room or something. Aziraphale gave him a pointed stare at that. "Although most of the time you're just a nightmare."

Crowley would take what he could get.

XXX

An hour or so later saw them retiring back to their rooms. Crowley had managed to con Aziraphale into having a few drinks at the bar, although the angel had hardly needed convincing. 

"Do you really think it's over," Aziraphale asked. He was slumped over against his door, his key already stuck inside the lock although he hadn't turned it yet. 

Crowley mirrored his position, his naturally swishing walk turning into a lean against his own door. "What's over?"

Aziraphale moved his hand in Crowley's direction before jerking it back up and around in the air. "Th-the bad feeling. From the first night. Do you think it's really over?"

Crowley sucked in a sharp breath. He didn't like to lie to Aziraphale. In fact, he made it a point to not do so as much as he possibly could. "You said the bunker was under control."

Aziraphale, clearly seeing what Crowley was doing, continued on. "I know. I know what I said before, but I'm asking if you think that it's actually under control."

Crowley looked at him, really looked at him. He noticed that his blonde-white hair was a little curlier than it usually was, that his eyes seemed to be watching Crowley far more intently than they usually did. Despite the fact that Crowley knew Aziraphale couldn't see through his glasses he couldn't help but feel as though he was staring into them, reading everything that he wasn't saying like it was the Sunday paper.

"I don't know why it wouldn't be," Crowley said. He usually knew what Aziraphale needed most at any given moment, and most of the time it was reassurance. "Humans are smart little creatures. If anyone could figure out how to keep a ship going with a boiler that had caught on fire it would be them."

Aziraphale still didn't seem reassured. "But what if we were wrong," he said. "What if there was something else that we're missing?"

Crowley shrugged. "Like what?" he asked. "The two forces on Earth most likely to cause that feeling are standing right here in this hallway. I didn't do it," he said, pointing to his own chest, "and I know you didn't do it. So it seems like we're good."

They stood there in the hallway, drunkenly leaning against their doors. To anyone else they likely just looked like a couple of drunk men bickering about something pointless, maybe which drink or dessert had been better at dinner, before going inside their respective rooms to pass out. 

Sometimes Crowley liked to pretend that's all they were. Just two people who happened to find each other and somehow, through it all, managed to become best friends and live out their lives that way. There would be no ineffable plan or sides to debate with. There would just be the two of them, on their own side.

What would a life like that be? One where they didn't have to hide that they were friends. That Crowley could do something "nice" for someone just because he wanted to and Aziraphale could be as much of a bastard as Crowley knew he wanted to be?

"You're probably right," Aziraphale said, startling Crowley out of his thoughts. "I just worry, you know?" He leaned up against the door frame, far closer to Crowley than he had been before. "What if we got something wrong?"

Crowley stared at the space between him and Aziraphale. They were so close he could practically feel his body heat from this distance. His hand, which had been keeping him up right and propped on the door frame, was mere inches from touching Aziraphale's. If he extended his pinkie they would probably touch.

"I think that we get a lot of stuff wrong," Crowley said. "But I don't think this is one of them."

Aziraphale tilted his head back, his eyes coming up under Crowley's glasses and giving him a perfect view of his eyes. There was something there, maybe recognition or maybe just simple acknowledgement, that Crowley severely wished that he could explore more thoroughly. 

"Crowley-" Aziraphale said but was cut off by a door opening down the hallway.

The two of them jumped away from each other like they'd been scorched. Neither one of them were exactly smooth at it either, as Crowley bumped his head on his own door and Aziraphale rammed his shoulder into his. The man that was leaving his room barely even glanced at the two of them.

They watched the man walk past until he was well out of sight. Neither one of them seemed to know what to say now that the spell they'd sort of been under had been broken. 

"Well, I guess this is good night," Aziraphale said. His eyes seemed sad and his tone held more than a slight bit of disappointment to it.

"Right," Crowley said. He nodded his head, ruffling his hair up against his door. "Probably for the best."

"Yes," Aziraphale said. "I certainly imagine so."

Crowley stared at Aziraphale for a second longer, wondering if he should say something. What would he say? That he didn't want to say goodnight? That if it were up to him, they'd probably never say goodnight to each other?

"Night," he said instead. It was easier this way.

Aizraphale's eyes fell but he gave his own nod in return. 

That night when the door closed Crowley didn't even bother going to sleep.

XXX

One thing that Crowley had always enjoyed about humans was their ability to find a reason to have a party for almost any reason.

"They're supposed to be having a dance tonight," Crowley said, calling out his observation to Aziraphale. They were seated together around breakfast, although Crowley was still not eating as usual. 

"I don't like the dancing they do nowadays," Aziraphale said, taking a rather large bite from his food. "I miss the dances they used to have."

Crowley spread his arms wide, almost knocking into a waiter as he did so. He ignored the glare he got from both the waiter and Aziraphale. "You're living in the past, angel. You're just sad that your one dance move is rather obsolete."

Both of them knew this to be true, but Aziraphale still scowled at Crowley for it anyways. "I just don't see why you find it so interesting," he said. "Unless you're planning some big temptation tonight?"

Crowley would be lying if he said he hadn't thought about it. That many rich, snobby humans all gathered in one place, drinking and getting close? It was a demons paradise of temptation. Hardly required a demon to do anything, if he were truthful. Which is how he actually liked to do his temptations.

"Maybe I am," he said, his voice teasing. "What are you gonna do? Thwart me?" 

Aziraphale said up, dabbing at his lips with a cloth napkin. "If you insist on doing it, then I suppose I must."

Crowley stomach turned in the best way possible as he listened to his response. They'd both agreed to go to some social outing, all because Crowley insisted that he come with him. It wasn't a date, at least not in the way that humans set up dates, but it was close enough that he could pretend while also being excusable to both of their sides if they ever found out. It was hard to watch the Opposition if you couldn't see them, after all.

He'd excused himself shortly after breakfast, making excuses for temptations and whatever else he could think of in the moment. Honestly, he just wanted to check on the coal storage again and to try and figure out what he was going to wear that night.

After confirming that the bunker was no closer to exploding that it had been for the entire trip, he began debating his outfit.

Perhaps it was silly to most people to spend literally half of the day wondering what to wear, but to Crowley it was just part of the process. He liked showing up in different clothes, always keeping up with the latest trends, trying them on, and chucking them if he hated them. The added bonus of watching for Aziraphale's reaction was just the icing on the cake.

Despite this fact, Crowley still wasn't sure of Aziraphale's feelings for him. Part of him was convinced that he was just as head over heels for him as he was for the angel, but the other, louder and more rational part of himself told him that that was likely a misunderstanding. Aziraphale was a being of love, him being kind to Crowley just sort of went hand and hand.

All he knew was that Aziraphale enjoyed his company. He liked hanging out with him, drinking with him, watching plays with him. And if that was all he was allowed to have, if brief moments of friendship tinted with something else was all he was destined to receive from the angel, then he'd take it. No questions asked. 

It was better to have that than nothing at all.

He snapped his fingers and his outfit changed again. He'd debated adding some color to his wardrobe for this evening, a few darker reds, closer to wine colored really, that he knew the angel was fond of, but he still wasn't sure. Maybe black suit jacket with a wine colored button up? It would be unlike what most of the human men were wearing, as they were rather boring and stuck with plain black and whites.

He snapped his fingers a final time, changing into the outfit he’d planned before. Wine red undershirt, only really visible when he unbuttoned his suit jacket, and a pitch black jacket. There. He turned in front of the mirror a few times, examining his appearance. A single hand ran through his hair and it immediately slicked down, greased back with just a few hairs falling into place. 

_This will have to do,_ he thought and turned away from the mirror. He knew from experience that if he stood there much longer he'd start to debate what he was wearing, how he was styling his hair, even his physical appearance. There were, after all, so many more options available when one could change their gender at the snap of a finger. _Let's just hope it's worthy of being labeled a 'temptation'._

But this was the one. And while he doubted that Aziraphale was honestly putting that much effort into his appearance (as he still had clothes from several decades ago in rotation) he couldn't help but imagine that he was just as much of a bundle of nerves as Crowley was. The image of him fretting over something like his hair or clothes or anything just because he wanted Crowley to like them was almost enough to make him want to spontaneously combust.

He smiled when an idea began to form in his head. He'd have to be quick about it if he wanted to be on time, but he was pretty sure that he could make it.

With that thought he hurried out the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just need everyone to know that I never expected the update to take this long, nor did I expect this fic to get this long! It was honestly supposed to be about 10,000 words, and yet somehow it's doubled in size. I hope that everyone is enjoying it! Sorry for the wait!


	3. Chapter 3

The ballroom was already full by the time Crowley arrived. First class passengers were mingling around, some of them already dancing together while others were sharing drinks and laughing far too loud about something. The band played in the corner, some song that Crowley was honestly surprised he didn't recognize.

Sat on the other side of the ballroom at a table with a couple of drinks was Aziraphale. He looked the same way he always did, tan suit, curly hair, and a big smile on his face. He seemed to be amused by watching some of the families dancing nearby. Children were dancing on the feet of adults, turning them around and around the dance floor until Crowley wondered how they weren't dizzy.

"Aren't they precious?" Crowley asked, making an effort to keep his voice light. "Too bad they grow up to be such shitty adults."

"Crowley!" Aziraphale said, startled by the demon's approach. He glanced down at Crowley's hand, staring at what was being offered to him. "What is that?"

"It's a rose to pin to your jacket," Crowley said. It was a dark red color, almost perfectly matching Crowley's shirt.

"Yes, I can see that," Aziraphale said, "But why are you offering it to me?" 

Crowley could feel himself getting defensive over something that really shouldn't have been a big deal. But he'd gone out of his way to get it for Aziraphale, had actually been late because he'd had to stop and get it. It seemed rude for his only response to be to ask why he'd gotten it for him.

"Just thought you'd might like some color in your outfit," he teased.

"You're one to talk," Aziraphale said. Despite his words Crowley watched as he looked him up and down, his eyes clearly taking longer than was needed to to see his new clothes and hairstyle.

Still, he reached out and took the rose and pinned it above his heart on his jacket. 

"I was beginning to wonder if you were going to show up," Aziraphale said. "I thought I might have to come and wake you up."

"Fashionably late, like always," Crowley said.

And that seemed to be it for the most part. Together they watched as the children around them slowly danced themselves to sleep and parents picked them up to carry them to their rooms. It felt like old times, just the two of them talking, laughing, and observing humanity without actually interacting directly with them for the moment.

"I just don't know why they can't do the gavotte," Aziraphale said. "It's a fine dance, one that I do wish they'd still teach."

Crowley snorted at the thought of having to teach some of the young men on the dance floor that dance. "Please, angel, I'm begging you to learn some new dance moves."

Aziraphale gave a slight huff at that. "You know angels don't dance. The gavotte was a special circumstance."

"No," Crowley said, "it was a dumb dance." He held his hand out across the table towards Aziraphale. "Dance with me."

"What?" Aziraphale said, looking like a doe caught in headlights.

"Dance. As in dance with me."

The angel huffed again, folding his arms across his chest this time. "I most certainly will not."

Crowley stood up, coming around until he was standing in front of Aziraphale and offering his hand to him. "Come on. One dance. that's all I'm asking for."

Aziraphale glanced around, his eyes skirting from person to person. No one around them seemed to be paying attention to the men sitting at the table on the edge of the room, but that didn't stop Aziraphale from being paranoid. "Could you imagine what they'd say?"

Crowley did his own glancing around. He wasn't sure what to make of that comment. Did he mean Heaven and Hell? Because they were already risking enough by sitting down next to each other at the same table and sharing drinks together. There'd be no excusing that if either one of their side saw them at that moment.

Unless he hadn't mean Heaven and Hell and instead he'd meant the other people in the room.

Humans, as much as Crowley loved them, were strange creatures. The more time he spent around them the more he realized that he'd probably never fully understand their reasoning for some of the things they did or said. Aziraphale had probably had thoughts like this as well and was surely what he was talking about.

A man and a woman dancing together? Well, it could certainly be scandalous in some cases but would usually be fine. Two women dancing together? Again, could be scandalous, but most would write them off as 'being close' or 'like sisters' to each other because _"women experienced relationships differently"_ after all (which Crowley knew to be bull but was beside the point). But two men dancing together? In a setting like this?

He'd never taken Aziraphale to be one to care about that type of thing, but maybe he had misread the angel.

He dropped his hand to his side, trying not to show how much it had hurt. He'd put a lot of effort into this night and it hurt to see that he couldn't even get a dance with Aziraphale out of it. Thoughts of just a night or so ago when he and Jacob and all the other men had been drinking and dancing, not seeming to care that they were all men came to him and he couldn't help but feel even more betrayed by it.

There was a look in Aziraphale's eyes like regret mingled with relief, but Crowley didn't look too hard. Instead, he circled around him, coming to briefly stand at his back before circling around again.

"What about now?" he asked. And with a snap of his fingers he felt himself change.

Her hair was now done up; loose, wavy pieces still coming down around her face the same way her hair had done before. Her outfit had changed as well, the black and red suit replacing itself with a black and red dress that was probably a bit too tight for it to really be appropriate for the ballroom. It had been one of the outfits Crowley had debated when she hadn't known exactly what look she was going for at the start of the night.

She twisted until she was standing back in front of Aziraphale, a satisfied smirk present on her lips. It was obviously still her, the hair the same color as well as the clothes and glasses, but now she seemed to be every bit a lady as the rest of the first class women on board.

"Will you dance with me now?" she asked, holding her hand out to him again.

"Crowley," he said softly. She couldn't help the shiver that went through her when he said her name like that, like it was something that needed to be said with reverence. "There was nothing wrong with the way you looked before."

"I know," she said, almost too quickly. She did know this fact, but if her changing helped Aziraphale feel more comfortable with something then she didn't really mind. Plus, she'd be a liar if she said that she didn't enjoy the occasional dress or skirt every now and then. "But now you can dance with me." She moved her hand further out in front of her, as though Aziraphale might have somehow missed it before.

"Your appearance had nothing to do with why I didn't want to dance. I just-" Aziraphale cut himself off, dragging a hand down his face. "We both know how dangerous it is for the two of us."

Already she could feel her confidence shrinking. "It's just one dance, angel," she said. There was more that she had planned to say, other things she had planned to use to try and get him to agree to dancing with her, but she stopped when she felt eyes on her. One glance around the immediate area told her that at least one man was watching the two of them, likely waiting to see if Aziraphale would actually dance with her.

"Besides," she said. "If you don't dance with me, I'm sure they'll have no problem doing it." It was a low, uncalled for blow that she didn't mind striking at the moment. Her own selfish hurt from earlier still stung too strongly for that.

Aziraphale also looked around, noticing the man a little ways off. He gave a tight smile to Aziraphale and glanced between him and Crowley.

"I don't even know how to do any of these dances," Aziraphale protested, although he had started to stand up anyways. "I told you that already."

Crowley smiled, allowing him to take her hand in his. "That's fine. Just follow my lead and I'll show you."

To anyone else watching they probably seemed like a strange couple. The tall, lanky women seemed to be leading the two of them around, nothing more than a slight grimace whenever the man stepped on her foot, which was often. The man seemed to be stuck between staring at his feet and looking up at her, watching for anything that might slip through those sunglasses of hers.

The band changed songs, slow, soft melodies coming from the instruments. It was some sappy love song that Crowley had claimed to hate in a fit of rage but now couldn't help but think that it was the best sound in the world. Why did it seem like poetry and love songs only made sense when she was thinking of Aziraphale?

"You can change back if you'd like, dear," Aziraphale said. His voice was low and while Crowley was sure it was so no one else around them might hear them discussing occult and ethereal things, she couldn't help but be thrilled that it was meant for her and her alone. "I really don't care what form you taken, just so you know. You could spend the rest of your life in snake form and it wouldn't make a difference to me, not really. Just as long as it was what you wanted."

A tightness formed in her throat at his words. They were so genuine, so kind. What had she done to deserve this? She'd been cast out of Heaven due to her inability to keep questions to herself, so what made her think that she was deserving of an angel's love or acceptance?

They spun around in slow, lazy circle matching the speed of the music. The slow pace allowed for Aziraphale to better place his feet which meant less hurt toes for her. She couldn't help but notice the way the rose matched perfectly with her dress, clearly setting them off as a pair together. It made her feel better than she would have liked to admit.

She opened her mouth although she still wasn't sure what to say. Thank you? It felt too little of a thing for something like that, too mundane to be in this situation. I love you? That was clearly what she was feeling, but there was no way that she could say that, could say it and not have everything change, and likely not for the best. She'd just got her best friend back, she didn't want to lose him again due to something else stupid.

"Aziraphale, I-" 

She never got a chance to finish her sentence, which might honestly have been a blessing in disguise, as it felt like something had kicked her in the chest. There had to be something there, some elephant sitting on her chest and sucking all of the air out of the room.

And not just in her corporation. No, this went deeper. This was something painful to the occult part of herself.

She could hear herself gasp as she let go of Aziraphale's hands. Her own reached at her chest, like she might somehow be able to remove the pressure from there. There had to be a way to get rid of it, to stop this terrible feeling from happening.

"Crowley?" Aziraphale asked. His hands were soft on her arms as he tried to get her to remove her hands and look at him. "What's wrong?"

She gasped a few more times before feeling her legs go out from underneath her. Thankfully, Aziraphale was there, catching her before she could even think about how badly hitting the floor could have felt. 

"Angel," she gasped out, reaching out for his hand. Quickly, he guided her into the chairs they had been sitting in before and sank to his knees in front of her. 

"Yes, my dear, what's wrong? Are you hurt?" His eyes were moving back and forth so rapidly that she was sure he'd be sick by the end of it. 

She shook her head. "Remember that bad feeling at had before?" she asked. At his nod she continued. "I think whatever we were watching for finally happened."

XXX

It took a little bit for Crowley to recover even after the feeling had started to fade. One of the men from before, who had been watching Crowley ask Aziraphale to dance had even tried coming over, only to get side tracked by a miracle from Aziraphale.

"Think we should go and check the bunker?" Aziraphale asked once it seemed like she could breathe again.

"Yes," she said, although just the thought of going down there and seeing what had caused such a strong feeling was terrifying. 

Together they set off towards the bottom of the ship. It should've been a breeze for Crowley to get there, as she was used to sneaking down there, but her dress prevented her from moving quickly. 

"Hold on," she said and snapped her fingers. Her clothes and body changed back into the more traditionally masculine forms they'd been before. "There. It's too hard to move quickly in a dress like that."

Aziraphale ignored his comment. "If the bunker hasn't exploded, and I'm fairly certain it hasn't because we would've likely noticed that, what do you think is going on?"

They had just reached the very bottom of the ship when it became very obvious what the problem was going to be.

The entire ship suddenly shuddered, tossing Crowley to the floor. Aziraphale just barely managed to stay standing by grabbing on to the wall. 

"What was that?" Aziraphale asked as the lights flickered. For a moment everything was dark before they snapped back on. 

"Felt like we hit something," Crowley said, brushing himself off.

"Hit something!?" Aziraphale asked. He stepped near Crowley, his hands fidgeting in the air. "We're in the middle of the ocean, what could we possibly hit?"

"Dunno," Crowley said, glancing around. "Maybe we should go back up top."

Aziraphale glanced around the stairwell. There didn't seem to be anyone around, nor did there seem to be anything wrong aside from the lights and the movement from before. 

"Yes, maybe we should," he said, an uneasy feeling clearly settling over him. While he did not have Crowley's ability to feel the bad things that might happen, Crowley did know that he possessed pretty good instincts, even if he didn't always listen to them. "Perhaps we should-"

Before he could say anything else there was a groaning sound from the door down the hall. Both of them froze, staring at it in complete confusion and more than a little bit of apprehension. Just as Crowley was about to suggest they head upstairs again, the door burst open.

Water began to pour in, rushing down the hallway in a way that neither one of them could have expected. Aziraphale, a few steps closer to the door when it burst open, was swept off his feet. 

"Angel!" Crowley yelled. Quickly, he latched onto the stairway railing and dove his free hand into the water.

His fingers brushed against the soft coat Aziraphale had been wearing, prompting Crowley to yank him up as hard as he could. The water was freezing, already making it hard to hold onto things.

One of Aziraphale's hands reached up and grabbed onto Crowley's arm. Together, they managed to pull Aziraphale free from the water and onto the stairwell.

"Are you alright?" Crowley asked, running his hands over Aziraphale's arms.

Blood was dripping from near the angel's hair line. His head must have smacked against the ground when the water had knocked him down. Shivers were already racking his body even though he'd spent mere seconds in the water.

"I asked if you were okay," Crowley repeated. 

The ship itself seemed to answer him, the entire metal vessel groaning around them over the roaring water.

"I'm fine," Aziraphale said, although he seemed a bit dazed. "But I think we should get going." His gaze turned back towards the water, as did Crowley's. 

He held a hand out for him to take and pulled him to his feet once he did. He pushed Aziraphale in front of him, not trusting him to keep up.

"We've got to get above deck," Crowley said.

Aziraphale merely nodded in return.

It was slower going than Crowley would have liked, but there wasn't much he could do about it. Hopefully it would be better once they reached the next level.

His hopes were immediately dashed the second they reached the stairwell door. Water was already seeping under the door, although it was at a less extreme rate than the door before. 

Aziraphale glanced at Crowley, a silent question in his eyes. _Should we open it?_

"Here, move over," Crowley said, shifting Aziraphale to the side. "I'm gonna open the door, and I want you to move through it as fast as possible, alright?" 

At his nod, Crowley began to open the door. Water poured down the stairs, nearly taking him with it. With the help of the stair railing and the door frame, Aziraphale was able to pull himself through the door.

Crowley could feel his feet slipping, the numbing cold water killing his nerves. Just as he thought he might slip down the stairs with the rest of the water, Aziraphale's hand shot out, grabbing his arm and pulling him through the door.

"Thanks," Crowley said. For once there was no talk about their respective sides not liking either one of them thanking each other. There was only the two of them on a sinking ship.

Well, not exactly.

"What are you two doing down here?!" a voice screamed. A man who clearly worked on the ship was headed towards them, yelling to be heard over the water that was still roaring around them. Sparks flew from the lights nearby, making it almost impossible to see the man. 

"Passengers are supposed to be going to the decks!" he yelled. They both nodded, still startled by the man's presence.

The man continued on, heading down the hall and banging on every door as he went. 

"He's going to die," Aziraphale said. He jerked his head back to Crowley, his eyes looking at him, almost begging him to do something. "That man is going to die if we don't do something."

"A lot of people are going to die, angel," Crowley said. "This is a big ship and that water is coming in too fast." He resisted the urge he had to clack his teeth together at how cold the water was. "I don't think there's anything we can do to change that."

He pushed Aziraphale ahead of him, heading away from the direction the man had come. There seemed to be less water this way, as it was only to their knees now. If they kept going this way they would surely find another set of stairs and be able to get out.

But every path seemed to be the same down here. In the first class section the hallways had been a little more personalized. A little artwork here, a few flowers there. It had all gone a long way in setting the hallways apart from one another and feeling a little less labyrinth like. 

"We can't just leave them to die," Aziraphale said, this time his voice a little firmer. He'd stopped walking and turned around to face Crowley. "I was sent here! There must've been a reason for it!" 

Crowley growled and forcibly turned him around. "You said you were supposed to watch over a couple of people, yes? That's your reason." He kept his hands on Aziraphale's shoulders, almost marching him down the halls. "And it's not the end of the world if you fail that mission, anyways. But it _will_ be the end of us if we stay down here."

Or it would at least be a very painful discorporation. Drowning had never sounded like much fun to Crowley, plus if you somehow survived drowning, then you'd likely freeze to death in this water.

"Did you know this was going to happen?" Aziraphale asked, his voice a bit more than tense. There was something there, almost an accusation, but not quite. Like he didn't know if he should be angry with Crowley yet or not.

"Did I know the ship was going to spring a massive leak?" Crowley asked. "Did I know _that?_ "

Aziraphale at least had the consideration to look ashamed. "Well, you were also sent here," he said. "I just wanted to be sure that this wasn't something your lot planned."

"I screw with people, angel, I don't kill them," Crowley said. He let go of Aziraphale's shoulders as they had reached a door to the next floor. Thankfully, there didn't seem to be much water coming from the other side.

Already, the slight tilt of the ship could be felt. The hallways were beginning to angle themselves up or down, water pouring down or pooling up and every turn. It made traversing hallways nearly impossible for the two of them.

"We're going to have to swim across that," Crowley said, nodding his head to the water that was currently blocking their path to the next part of the ship. The stairway that they were standing in seemed to just end at it, but Crowley knew that there was another set of stairs just down the hallway that he usually took to get upstairs. If they could just reach that then he'd know exactly where he was and they'd be able to get up top. "Just duck under that doorway and we should be free and clear to the stairs."

"Swim across?" Aziraphale asked, glancing back and forth between the water and Crowley. His lips were nearly blue by this time, the blood on his head standing out even more. "What do you mean swim across?"

Crowley almost growled at him. Now was not the time for one of their arguments. "I mean that this is the quickest way up. If we want to get up a few floors as quickly as possible, we're going to need to swim across this little bit."

Again he looked back and forth from the water to him. "Is there another way?"

"No, angel. There's no other way. Come on," he said, holding out his hand. "I'll go with you. We'll go together."

He wasn't sure what Aziraphale seemed to have against swimming across, but now was not the time to get into it. Once they were free he'd ask him exactly what had made him hesitate when the other option was literally drowning to death, he swore that he would.

Aziraphale took his hand, although he seemed no more sure about any of this.

Together they waded, hand in hand, into the water. It was cold, so cold that Crowley was sure that he was going to suffocate before he could drown. It seemed to steal the air from his lungs, constricting his limbs until it was too difficult to move. 

He was a snake at heart. He fucking hated the cold.

But Aziraphale was gripping his hand so tightly that he was sure he'd squeeze it off, and there was no way he was going to back down. Not when his angel needed him.

They got about halfway across when it seemed like Aziraphale was lagging behind a bit. Crowley tugged on his hand, trying to get him to hurry up, but it didn't seem to do any good.

"I'm stuck!" Aziraphale said. His head was barely above the water, but Crowley could see the way his feet were kicking, trying to free itself. 

"For fuck's sake," Crowley said and dove under the water.

He could faintly hear Aziraphale above the water, calling for him to come back but he ignored him. If Aziraphale needed help, then he was going to help him.

His eyes burned with the effort to keep them open in the cold and salt, but he did the best he could. It seemed like someone's luggage had caught him, one of the straps wrapping around his ankle until it weighed him down. He'd probably stepped on it when they first entered into the water, almost completely unseen due to the water and the flickering lights.

He could feel Aziraphale sinking under the water, unable to hold himself up. His arms were moving a bit quicker than was probably necessary and his legs were kicking harder than they had been before. His body jumped when Crowley touched his leg, trying to get the case off of him.

The lights in the hallway flickered off for a few seconds, making it impossible to see anything. He tried to do it by touch but his fingers were numb and useless. He couldn't even tell if he was touching Aziraphale or the suitcase.

After a few moments they turned back on, just as he freed Aziraphale's leg. Neither one of them made an immediate break for the surface, clearly too tired and exhausted to move properly.

It would be so easy to just stop here. If he inhaled a mouthful of water now he'd probably be off of the Earth in less than four minutes. Four minutes wasn't even a long time for humans, much less for a timeless beings such as himself. _Just breathe in_...

A hand wrapped around his arm and yanked him to the surface. "Crowley!" Aziraphale said, his voice harsh, coughs racking his form. "Crowley! Say something!"

Crowley groaned, not certain what else he should be saying. He looked over to Aziraphale, who's face held nothing but worry and panic for his friend (and probably himself as well). Crowley could feel the hand that Aziraphale had used to pull him up, still wrapped around his arm. 

It was tough to get them moving again. Their limbs were so heavy, the cold making it impossible to move. It was like someone was taking a knife to every part of their skin at the same time, with at least six of them going to their chest and making it impossible to breathe.

Eventually they reached the stairs they'd been aiming for. Once again the thought that if Crowley just laid down here and didn't move then it would be over so much quicker and with less pain crossed his mind, but he promptly kicked it out once he looked at Aziraphale. Discorporation for himself might be one thing, but there was no way he was going to let the angel be discorporated. Not if he could help it, anyways.

They continued their way up the floors. Slowly, they managed to get back to one of the third class floors.

"You can't just leave us down here!" a woman's voice called. There was the sound of a baby crying and several men yelling as well.

"I'm sorry," a man said. "But you'll have to go around. These gates cannot open."

Up ahead was a group of people, clearly all third class passengers, gathered around a closed gate. On the other side were two staff members of the ship. 

"We'll drown if you don't let us out!" the woman said. She bounced the screaming baby in her arms a couple of times, trying to calm it down. "Please! At least let my baby up there."

"I'm sorry, ma'am," the man said. "But you'll have to go to one of the other exits."

"And what? Find it blocked, too?" a man asked, which Crowley quickly realized he recognized. John. Jacob was standing nearby, cussing up a storm. The crew member ignored both of them.

"They're locking people in," Aziraphale said. His voice was shocked, as if he couldn't imagine that anyone might do that to another person.

"They're locking _us_ in, too," Crowley said, his voice harsh.

Together, they pushed their way to the front of the group until they were standing right in front of the men.

"Open the gate," Crowley said. Aziraphale's head turned towards him, watching him. He'd put on his best tempting voice, the voice that once made Eve decide to eat the fruit, the voice that could convince a man to do anything.

Except open a gate apparently.

"Like I told them," the man said, "you'll have to go around."

There was so much fear in the group that it was practically a physical presence surrounding them. You could almost reach out and cut it.

"Sir," Aziraphale said, "there is no other way around. The water has already reached this floor."

Ah, his angel. Always trying to be the voice of reason.

This, however, was not the time for a voice of reason. 

Panic seemed to spread even more. The people behind them, probably about ten of them, had begun to shout some more, their words running together until they were nothing more than a thunder. John and Jacob had stepped back, clearly surprised by Crowley and Aziraphale's sudden appearance. Both of them stood next to the woman with the baby, who Crowley assumed was the Molly Aziraphale had mentioned before. The man on the other side of the gate shot a worried look to his coworker.

"Open the damn gate!" Crowley said, slamming his hands on either side of the gate. If tempting wouldn't work on him then he'd use good old fashioned fear.

"Step back!" the man said. He reached under his coat for a second and pulled out a handgun, leveling it between Crowley and Aziraphale. "I mean it!"

"What're you gonna do?" a man from the group shouted. "Shoot us?!"

The group seemed to intensify after that. There was something in the air now and it was a hell of a lot more dangerous than anything Crowley could have ever hoped to create.

It was a group of scared humans.

He stepped forward, moving so that he was completely in front of Aziraphale and put his hands on the bars. It would take a second, just a quick second to magic-

Fire seemed to shoot through his side. Screams rang out around him as he let go of the bars and fell backwards.

Arms came up to catch him and lowered him to the floor. Aziraphale's face came into view, hovering anxiously over him. His hands pressed against his side, trying to find what was causing so much pain.

_"You shot him!"_ the mother, Molly, screamed. _"Oh my God, you shot him."_

Well, that explained it.

"Crowley?" Aziraphale asked. Concern seemed to come rolling in waves from him, his eyes staring into Crowley's.

"Shit," was all Crowley could say.

Aziraphale's gaze seemed drawn to his side. Blood far warmer than the water around them seeped from between Crowley's fingers. A hand that wasn't his own, that could only belong to Aziraphale, came to rest over the top of both of his.

"Hang on," he said. Before Crowley could ask what he was supposed to be waiting for, Aziraphale raised his hand. Blood covered it, despite the fact that it had only been pressed against Crowley's side for a moment. He snapped his fingers and all Hell seemed to break loose.

The gate, which had been firmly locked before, suddenly exploded. Or close enough to it. Pieces fell like rain around them and screams filled the air again. Everyone stood there for a moment, all of them just staring at each other and the remains of the gate before they all sprung into action.

Both of the crew members ran. They were the first ones to move and were gone before anyone else had really processed what had happened. 

"We'll get you fixed up, just you wait," Aziraphale said, his hand returning to Crowley's wound. Blood was still dripping from Aziraphale's head and his energy seemed to be drained far more than it should have been than from the minor miracle the gate had taken.

"You've been helping people," Crowley said realized. "That's why we haven't run across many people. You've been miracling them." Aziraphale shook his head, his eyes tightly closed. 

"Stupid, stupid, _stupid_ demon," Aziraphale said, almost as if he hadn't heard him. "Why did you do that?"

"I could tell something was going to happen," he said. "They were scared. Thought I could get the gate open before he fired."

His head was pillowed on Aziraphale's lap, giving him a perfect view of the wound. His stomach turned at all of the blood and the urge to throw up all the alcohol they'd consumed earlier that night was strong.

"Do you need help carrying him?" Molly asked. John hovered close by, nodding to Aziraphale in acknowledgement. Jacob seemed like he was debating if he wanted to be sick or fight someone. Maybe both.

"Well I-" Aziraphale started and promptly stopped. He hadn't really looked at the people before, far too distracted by the fact that they'd been sentenced a slow, watery death, but now that he was looking at them he could tell who they were.

The people that Heaven had asked him to protect.

And here they were, asking if _he_ was the one who needed help.

"Grab his arm," she instructed her husband. "I bet we can get him up to the deck in no time."

Together, Aziraphale and John helped to lift Crowley from the ground. Jacob seemed to hover right behind them, making sure that he was actually up on his feet. The demon growled at the pain (and he will maintain that he growled, as he certainly did not whimper), but at least seemed able to keep his feet under him and walk. The blood seemed to have slowed down now, although Crowley couldn't tell if that was from his own work or Aziraphale's. Neither one of them were strong enough to completely stop it on their own at the moment, but it seemed like their combined efforts had managed to stem it for the most part.

Thankfully, it seemed like the family knew how to get up from the third class part of the ship to the first class even quicker than Crowley had. The terrible thought about what might have happened if they hadn't run across them and had been left to find their own way ran through Crowley's mind, but he quickly dismissed it.

The longer they walked the harder it was to concentrate on anything, though. His body shivered, the combination of blood loss and cold water finally seeming to get to him. He tried his best to keep walking, to not slow down their movements at all, but it was difficult. It was like someone had shackled iron weights to his frozen feet and demanded he walk.

And that was to say nothing about the pain in his side.

"Angel," Crowley said, attempting to gain his attention. A sound came from Aziraphale, but he made no move to answer Crowley, nor did he even seem to be listening to him.

"Listen, angel," Crowley said, his feet seemed to start dragging, his steps become less and less stable. He wasn't walking at this point, just being dragged by the two of them. Jacob had placed his hands on his shoulders at some point, pushing him along to make sure that the three of them kept moving.

"You okay?" John asked, glancing back and forth between Crowley and Aziraphale. Neither one of them seemed exactly sure who he was asking, and neither one of them answered.

"Let's set him down here, just for a second," the mother suggested. Her baby was still crying, although it seemed to have quieted down now. Crowley sent a little diabolical miracle her way, hoping that he'd had enough left in him to make sure that the baby was staying warm. Even if they weren't on a sinking boat, it was still far too cold out for the baby to be out without a better blanket or coat.

It was a struggle to ease him down to the ground without hurting him more than he already was. As soon as he was on the ground Aziraphale practically collapsed next to him. His hands rested on Crowley's side, but the demon quickly swatted them away.

"Stop," he said. With humans standing next to him it was impossible for them to get into the discussion of miracles and how Aziraphale should be saving his strength and not using them on him, but he did the best that he could to convey the message with his glasses covered eyes.

Aziraphale shook his head. His whole body seemed to be shaking, although Crowley didn't know exactly when it had started or if it was strictly from the cold or the amount of miracles he'd performed. While he didn't know the exact numbers, he did know that a lot of people who would have otherwise died were going to live.

His hand reached up to the cut on Aziraphale's head. It was still bleeding, although it had almost completely stopped now. The blood on his hands, his blood, mixed with Aziraphale's as he swiped it away.

"It's not too much further now," John said, encouraging them. He was glancing back and forth between his family, the two on the ground, and the distant exit. "I'm sure if we just..."

Crowley looked at the young family next to him. The mother, who was still bouncing the baby in her arms, gave him a small, tight smile. It wasn't a good one, although it was meant to be encouraging. 

But it didn't take a genius to figure out what would happen next if they stayed here.

"Go," Crowley said and Aziraphale's head shot up. "Get on one of the boats before they try and lock you in again."

The woman seemed ready to protest, had already reached one of her hands over to her husband's or Jacob's arm to plead for one of them to help them, but was stopped when Crowley raised his arm and snapped his fingers.

Suddenly, it was like they could no longer see the two of them. They turned and hurried away to a lifeboat with seats reserved just for them. It was the least he could do.

"That was...nice," Aziraphale said, his voice woozy. He gave him a loose smile, pride shining behind his eyes. It should have pissed Crowley off, made him storm and yell and break things that an _angel_ would be proud of his work.

It didn't though. Instead he felt his own sort of pride and being able to make Aziraphale proud. It almost made him dizzy staring at that tired smile, although he would later blame that on the blood loss.

"Hm," he said. His eyes began to close, the tilting hallway suddenly not seeming as important as it once was.

"No, Crowley," Aziraphale said. A hand reached over and tapped against his face, trying to rouse the demon. "You've got to stay awake. We can't stop now."

"Get out, angel," Crowley said, not even bothering to open his eyes. "I've got one left in me and it's just enough to make sure you get a seat on a lifeboat."

"Crowley!" Aziraphale's voice cut through the haze around him. It was sharp and harsh and very much so offended by his suggestion. "I can't just leave you here."

"And why not?" Crowley asked, his eyes finally opening to look up at Aziraphale. "We're enemies after all. It only makes sense to leave me here." 

The angel shook his head, his drenched curls slinging cold water everywhere. "I know what you're trying to do and it won't work on me."

"Not trying to do anything," Crowley said, although this was a lie that both of them could easily see through. "Just telling the truth."

"Yes, well don't!" Aziraphale said hotly. He glanced down at Crowley, staring at the wound at his side. Any other day and a simple miracle would have already healed it thrice over. Today, it couldn't do much more than slow it to a trickle. Crowley was sure that if Aziraphale was a man so inclined to do so, he'd probably be cussing up a storm by now.

_"Women and children!"_ a distant voice called. _"Women and children only!"_

"Do you hear that?" Crowley asked, his voice bordering on hysterical. He didn't know if he should laugh or cry at the fact that they had come so far, gotten so close, and were going to be stopped by a human ringing a bell by the lifeboats.

Aziraphale nodded and closed his eyes. His head was bent low, so low that the shadows almost obscured his eyes the same way Crowley's glasses did. The rose that had been pinned to his suit jacket earlier in the night was still there, wilted and more than a few petals gone, but still there.

"I think I've got enough for one more miracle," Aziraphale said. His voice was strained, shaking in a way that Crowley knew had nothing to do with the low temperatures. Too many miracles performed in such a short amount of time. He shuddered to think of what Heaven might say to Aziraphale about this one.

"What exactly do you have planned?" Crowley asked. He was usually the one with the plans, always seeming to come up with them at the last second. Yet his brain had slowed down, thoughts spacing themselves further and further apart until he was sure he'd never think again.

Aziraphale’s hand lifted up, hovering over him and ready to snap. Still, Crowley couldn’t imagine what the angel had planned. Neither one of them had the strength to transport out of here, not with land being so far away, and even if they could somehow get off of the ship to fly Crowley doubted his corporation would last that long.

With a snap everything about Crowley transformed. He could feel his hair grow back out, loose curls all matted with ocean water and blood. His suit changed too, the legs coming together and the fabric changing color until the dress resembled something close to what he’d worn earlier that night. Distantly, he noted that it was much less revealing than the one he’d picked out earlier, and tried to remind himself to make fun of the angel if they even got out of her.

Even his body changed, which was a strange sensation to feel when it was not oneself doing it.

“What are you doing?” Crowley asked, her voice a little bit higher now. Aziraphale slide his arms under her armpits and helped lever her up into a sitting position once again. His hands were shaking, his whole body was shaking as he grunted with the effort to pick up Crowley’s slight form.

“Angel?” she asked, squirming just a bit. “Aziraphale! What the Heaven are you doing?”

Still, the angel didn’t answer. His face was closed off, as if he couldn’t even hear Crowley saying anything. No emotions other than determination seemed to leak through, almost nothing of the angel that she had grown so fond of.

This wasn’t the bookshop owning, tea sipping, cake enjoying angel. This was the angel who had once been given a flaming sword by the Almighty Herself.

The scene on deck was nothing but chaos. People were arguing over who should get to go into the lifeboat first, each one claiming louder and louder that their family was more deserving of going. Out in the distance, a little ways away, Crowley could see lifeboats that were half empty, too far away to come back and be of any assistance or have anyway to get any of the people on board down.

“Women and children only!” a man, clearly an important ranking man on the ship, ordered. He pushed back against a group of men who were clearly going to try and do their best to get on the boat, no matter what the man said.

“Women and children!” a second call came, this one a bit closer to where they were standing. Crowley lifted her head and could see who she was pretty sure was the First Officer, Officer Murdoch, standing near a lifeboat ready to launch.

His eyes seemed to make contact with Aziraphale and then drift down over to Crowley, who was weakly trying to hold her head up. Even now she could feel like blood seeping out of the wound, even through the minor miracles they’d performed. 

“Come on!” he shouted at Aziraphale, his arm waving him over. 

Despite the tiredness and pure exhaustion that was dripping like ocean water from Aziraphale, he still hurried over as fast as he possibly could to get to the man.

“She’s been hurt,” he said, keeping his words intentionally vague. There was no need to cause panic about why Crowley might have a gunshot wound, after all.

Murdoch nodded but didn’t even seem to hear Aziraphale. “Come on, now,” he said, helping to take some of Crowley’s weight as they lifted her into the boat. A woman and her child who was already in scooted over and helped her settle down next to them.

Aziraphale stepped back, staring at Crowley. Crowley could already tell what he was thinking, didn’t even need to have known him for thousands of years. It was written as plain as day on his face.

He was going to leave her.

“No!” she shouted, stretching her arm back out until it caught Aziraphale’s wrist. He seemed surprised that she even had the strength to do that, his eyes widening as he tried to lean back and away from her. 

“Ma’am,” Murdoch said, trying to disconnect Crowley’s hand from Aziraphale’s. “We’ve got to launch the boat.”

“I won’t leave without you,” she said. Her voice was hard and icy, reminding everyone in the vicinity of the cold water below them.She’s fought this hard to get them up here, to get them back to being friends or maybe something more, and she would be damned twice over if she was going to let anything happen to her angel.

“Crowley,” he said weakly. He was drained, both physically and spiritually. If she didn’t get him in this lifeboat, there was no way he was going to live.

He’d get sent back to Heaven. And who knows when they’d let him come back. They’d probably use any excuse in the book not to send him back. The idea of Gabriel wanting him to relocation back to Heaven a few decades ago replayed in her mind, and the fact that he’d only been spared because she’d tricked Gabriel was at the forefront of her thoughts. Could she do it again if that did happen? What would Earth be like without him?

_Not shit, that’s what._

“I’ll get out,” she said. “I swear I will.”

“No one is getting out!” Murdoch said, and Crowley wanted nothing more than to shove the man over board at that moment. A few of the people near Crowley seemed to shift, debating whether or not they should try and hold her in or push her out.

Murdoch glanced back and forth between Crowley and Aziraphale, the way her hand was cutting off all circulation in his wrist and unlikely to let go anytime soon. She’d spent a good part of her life as a snake, she knew how to coil around something and not let go.

He glanced back at the other Officer, who seemed to have finally managed to fight the men off on that side and was helping a pair of young ladies into the boat. He cursed under his breath and looked towards the sky, like he might be asking heaven for help.

Crowley could’ve help but notice that bit of irony.

“Get in,” he said to Aziraphale, all but shoving him in. “Just do it quick. Go.”

Crowley all but yanked him in until he was sitting next to her on the bench seat. The mother pulled her child into her lap so there would be more room for them. 

Crowley glanced around the people gathered in the boat. She’d seen a lot of scared humans in her time, lived through a lot of bad parts of history that most people didn’t make it through, and she would undoubtedly see even worse to come. But there was something about the faces sitting in that boat, staring back at her that she knew she’d never forget.

Because she didn’t feel like a demon sitting next to an angel at that point. Instead, she felt close to them, more like them then she probably ever had. Neither one of them had any miracles left, all of their magic used up throughout the night. It had been a long time since she’d felt like this before, and she’d been in no hurry to ever feel it again.

The boat dropped down soon after that, a few more people having managed to get on before they decided to launch it.

She didn’t know what was going to happen after that. Where were they supposed to go in the middle of the ocean at night? It was already so cold here, she knew that there were ever more humans who were likely going to die of illness if they even made it back to land.

Aziraphale leaned into her, his head resting on top of hers. It was obvious that he was struggling, his head probably still aching and the rest of his body likely in a state as well. Too many miracles, almost drowning, a head wound, and who knew what else he was keeping from her at that moment. 

It was the least she could do to help prop him up.

She shifted a bit, allowing him to lean more into her, although she couldn’t help the slight hiss that came out as the wound in her side ached. It was far too close to a snake’s hiss for her own comfort, but it seemed like no one had heard. Everyone else was quiet, or mumbling prayers as they looked at the ship. 

A couple of men who had been loaded into the boat were rowing them away from the sinking wreck, their sleeves rolled up despite the temperature to make it easier to move. Everyone in the boat were in various states of dress. Some of them were dressed for the party they’d went to earlier that evening (that somehow felt like a lifetime ago), while others were dressed for bed. Some of them were clearly third class passengers while some of them were first class. While the majority of them were women and children, it did seem like the lifeboat was a good mix of people.

The child who had been placed in the mother’s lap next to her was crying. Little, tiny sobs were coming from him that sent a sliver of glass straight through Crowley’s heart. She wished that there was something she could do, one last miracle she could give him to show him that he would be okay…

The mother kissed her kids head and bent forward until her forehead was pressed against his, murmuring quiet prayers over him like it might actually save him. Crowley, turned her own head up to the Heavens and glared, hoping that if the Almighty might be listening and actually help these people. And if She wasn’t, then Crowley would figure something out herself.

Even the stars above, the stars that she had fallen in love with so long ago while creating them were not enough to distract her from the pain though. Again she shifted, trying to find some way to sit that didn’t hurt her side.

“Crowley,” Aziraphale’s voice was soft, almost like he was hoping that she wouldn’t hear him. No one else in the boat looked up, each one of them clearly in their own version of shock.

“Yes, angel,” she said, gritting her teeth against the pain.

He was silent, and for a moment Crowley assumed that he had only said something to make sure she was still there. Eventually, he did speak again, his voice still just as soft as before.

“A lot of people died tonight,” he said. His head was turned away from her, his eyes trained on the ship in the distance. The lights flickered, once, twice, and then went out completely as it started to tilt upright. Again, it was one of those things that she knew she was going to be seeing for the rest of her life.

“Yes they did, angel,” she said, for lack of anything better. There was no argument that she could make, nothing that would make that fact not irrevocably true.

“Do you think-” he cut himself off. People jumped from the railings of the ship as it continued to turn up. “Do you think She intended this. Or do you think this was one of your sides?”

“I think my side would’ve blown it up,” she said. “Nothing like the irony for burning at sea.”

He said nothing to that. A great groaning came from the ship, metal creaking and cracking and breaking as it suddenly split in half. The top part, the part that had started to rise up into the air, went crashing down, blasting frigid water up into the air. 

_There was no way anyone could live through that,_ Crowley thought.

“I tried to save them,” Aziraphale said. “I really did, you know. I tried to get as many of them out as possible, but…”

“Angel,” Crowley said. She shifted so that she was sitting up a bit more and able to actually catch his eye. It was obvious that he didn’t want to look at Crowley, that he probably rather be wearing Crowley’s sunglasses at that moment than have to look her in the eyes. “There was nothing that you could do. There were too many people. You saved the ones you could. You saved the ones that you were sent here to make sure they got to America, there’s no way that anyone in Heaven could get mad at you for that.”

It wasn’t an issue of Heaven being angry, though, and Crowley knew that. It was more of a self thing, really. Aziraphale was likely going to be mad at himself for a long time and the thought hurt Crowley’s heart more than she cared to admit.

“You saved me, too,” she said, leaning back against him. His side was just a bit warmer than the frost air around them, but not by much. “I would’ve died at least three times back there, you know.”

Aziraphale said nothing to that. At first she wondered if she’d overstepped their boundaries, had said something that she should’ve kept quiet about. Bringing attention to these rescues they did for each other usually ended in some sort of fight.

But neither one of them had the energy for it right now.

“I’m glad,” Aziraphale said. His hand reached out and held onto Crowley’s. “I was scared that you were going to discorporate back there. I don’t know what I would’ve done if that had happened.”

Their hands squeezed together and Crowley couldn’t even tell who had squeezed first or hardest. All that mattered was the fact that they were holding hands, watching the unsinkable ship sink below the surface of the water from the safety of a lifeboat together.

It was strange to hear her own thoughts echoed back so honestly, though.

He rested his head on top of her matted curls again, and Crowley could pretend that what she had felt was a small kiss he’d placed there as well. It was far too close, too intimate for how they usually operated. 

But then again, so was holding hands. So she could pretend all she wanted.

It would still be a couple of hours before the _RMS Carpathia_ would arrive and pull the lifeboat passengers on board. It would take another couple of hours for everyone to be checked out and sorted into some of the spare rooms on board. And if one of them used a little bit of the magic that they’d gained back to make sure that they got a room together so they wouldn’t have to let each other out of their sight, well, neither one of them mentioned it.

XXX

Three days later and they’d arrived in port. Both Aziraphale and Crowley had regained their strength by this point, but neither one of them miracled themselves off of the ship. Instead, they stayed with the rest of the humans who disembarked in New York.

Thousands of people were waiting on the docks for them when they got there. Families were frantically scanning the crowds for loved ones faces, while curious bystanders watched in fascination as people descended down the gangplanks.

It would still be a few days before they had full list of the people who had perished on the ship, but that didn’t seem to be stopping the reporters from asking what had happened, who was who, where was this rich, important person who’d apparently been on the boat.

Crowley and Aziraphale walked arm in arm down the gangplank. Although she’d gained her strength back and had completely healed the bullet wound in her side, Aziraphale still hovered nearby, just in case anything else might happen.

She’d thought about changing herself back into the appearance that she’d normally wore, but Aziraphale had convinced her not to. Suddenly losing track of a woman on board and gaining a man would have likely caused far more questions than either one of them had had the energy for at the time.

“Mr. Fell!” a voice shouted over the din.

Down a little ways was Jacob, John, and Molly, who was holding her baby. All three of the adults were waving frantically to the two of them, trying desperately to get their attention.

“We looked for you on board!” Molly said. “We’d hoped that you had made it off the ship.” Immediately, she went in for a hug, her hug briefly separating Crowley and Aziraphale’s arms.

“Crowley?” Jacob asked. As Crowley turned her head, she could see him looking her up and down, astonishment on his face. “I thought that was you. There’s no denying that hair.”

“Yes,” she said, although she didn’t know what else to say. Humans didn’t usually catch her in different genders.

“It looks good on you,” he said, smiling a bright smile. “Although, just between you and me,” he said, lowering his voice, “I really fancied the short hair.”

She gave her own smile at his words. Maybe if they had been in a different lifetime, different people, she could have seen herself with him. It was obvious now that he had probably liked her better as a him (definitely fancying men far more than women), and if she didn’t feel what she felt for Aziraphale it might have been worth a shot.

His eyes looked towards the spot where she’d been shot a few days ago. “And that’s good now, right? They checked you out on board?”

She nodded her head, although no one had actually done that. Well, no one other than Aziraphale, anyways.

“That’s good to hear.” 

Aziraphale’s arm slid through hers, turning both of their attention back towards the others. He gave a strange look to Jacob, although he thankfully said nothing to him, before turning back to Crowley. “Ready to go, my dear?”

She looked back towards the ship and all of the people who were gathered around. “Sure am, angel,” she said.

The group said farewell, waving good-bye to each other. She was sure that they’d see them again, the universe was too small and there were far too many coincidences for her to believe that they wouldn’t. 

There would be discussions among Heaven and Hell about who won this one. Heaven would claim that they did, as the people that they had wanted to make sure got to America did, in fact, get to America safely. Hell, however, would counter that their man had caused so much death and destruction that it would only be counted as a win for them.

Crowley looked at Aziraphale and watched the way his curly hair bounced with each step they took, his smile growing wide as he pointed out some of the places he’d been planning to try once he’d reached America. 

It would take time for them, but she knew that he would be fine. 

And it didn’t matter which side thought they had won. She knew, watching him smile, that she was the real winner.

XXX

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I never planned for this story to get this long. It was originally just going to be a quick one and done type of thing but it kept growing and growing and now it's like this. If I had known it was going to be like this, I definitely would've done a couple of things differently, but I hope that you guys enjoy it!

**Author's Note:**

> I have had a strange fascination with the Titanic ever since I was little. When I went to the museum they have in Branson, they had water there that was as cold as the water had been surrounding the Titanic that night, and I could literally only stick my arm in it for a second because it was so cold, hurt so bad, and made it impossible to breathe. 
> 
> (title is from the song Dangerous Night by thirty seconds to mars)


End file.
